


My Darling

by Padraigen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Nicknames, Pining, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Rating May Change, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27528007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Padraigen/pseuds/Padraigen
Summary: Based on the prompt: Tony starts calling Steve a bunch of cutesy nicknames along with his regular ones to throw him off. Tony keeps doing it because he wants to know long he can go until Steve says something, until one day he realises he wants to call Steve those cutesy nicknames for real. Meanwhile, Steve’s been pining and wishing the nicknames were real.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 50
Collections: Marvel Trumps Hate 2019





	My Darling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ishipallthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishipallthings/gifts).



> Written for Marvel Trumps Hate 2019. Thanks so much to ishipallthings who bid for me and has been so kind and patient.
> 
> Story might diverge a bit from the prompt, but it's in the same spirit.
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy!

He’s having a good day.

Actually, he’s having a good week. A genuinely good week. No bad guys to take down, no stress, more sleep than he’s gotten in ages. Life’s good all around.

That’s probably why he does it.

*

It is a Friday night, and the entire team is there in the game room. There is pizza and soda and snacks and generally just a bunch of shit that’s terrible for the human body, but it’s been a good week and they’re allowed to indulge every once in a while.

Thor’s booming voice is the loudest, as it always is, as he animatedly cheers Natasha on, pumping his drink into the air, seemingly uncaring about the way some of his beer splashes out and slides down his fingers.

Bruce is surprisingly swept up in the excitement of the competition, because he has a keen eye set on the action and keeps leaning over to whisper tips in Tony’s ear. Behind him, Rhodey is for whatever reason giving him a pep talk that Tony is mostly ignoring in favor of grinning smugly at Natasha, whose eyes are gleaming even as she narrows them at him, a smirk quirking the corner of her lips up.

It _is_ a pretty intense game. Air hockey is a very serious deal at the Avenger’s compound, and Tony loves the way his heart is racing, blood singing in his veins. He loves the chaos around him, nothing overtly dangerous, just a group of people—a group of friends—enjoying each other’s company very loudly and very enthusiastically.

It’s two-to-two, and whoever scores next wins the game. Bets are being declared, and Tony’s locked eyes with Natasha until something else catches his attention, something just in the corner of his eye, and he looks away.

Steve is standing front row next to the table and has been carefully watching the proceedings this entire time. But now he’s looking at Tony, a small smile gracing his lips, and Tony loses whatever concentration he had.

And then Natasha has beaten him before he even realizes what’s happening, and the room might literally be shaking with Thor’s victorious booming, but that might also be Tony’s imagination.

“Aw, c’mon, man!” Rhodey complains as he hands over a twenty to Wilson’s upturned palm.

Even Banner is grumbling under his breath—“Told him he should’ve taken the bank shot”—as he passes a bill to Wanda who deftly stuffs it in her pocket and goes back to whatever she was doing on her Starkpad.

He catches Nat’s eye and she gives him a crooked smile, her version of a shit-eating grin. “Better luck next time.”

And Tony is feeling cheerful, but he’s also him, so he says, “You did good, babe.”

He enjoys the way her eyebrow quirks, the rest of her expression relatively unchanged, because it means that he’s intrigued her, maybe even puzzled her—he can’t say for sure—and he also likes the way her smile gentles just that littlest bit.

*

He’s playing in his workshop like he’s wont to do when Bruce barges in—well, Bruce doesn’t really barge, but he doesn’t even knock this time, so for him, it’s close enough—and asks Tony if he’s read the paper he had sent him.

Tony hums and haws—“I’m a very busy man, Bruce”—pretending to pay attention even as he knows Bruce can see right through him.

“Pass me that wrench, would you, sugar plum?”

It doesn’t just slip out, it’s deliberate, but Tony doesn’t think Bruce notices. In fact, Bruce doesn’t even twitch, reaching out to hand him the wrench like he’s asked before heading back to the door, throwing over his shoulder, “Read it, okay, and get back to me when you have a chance.”

And then he’s gone.

*

He calls Thor honey bun and gets a satisfying grin for his efforts, calls Clint a Casanova and is rewarded by a delightful split-second of incredulity followed by a pleased sniff, and calls Rhodey buttercup and gets… absolutely nothing—of course, Tony expected this; by now, nothing he does could ever faze one Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes.

Tony is treated to a suspicious glare when he calls Wanda pumpkin and a lecture where “fascinating” is used at least five times when he calls Vision _apple of my eye._

Then he comes to the conclusion that it is _not_ a brilliant idea to call Wilson a sweet pea—he isn’t one, anyway, so Tony doesn’t know what he was trying to prove there—and determines never to do so again.

*

He saves the best for last without really meaning to. Okay, so he’s hesitating a little, sue him. It doesn’t mean anything. None of this really means anything—it’s just for fun. Just an experiment to see what his teammates do.

He wakes up bright and early on a Wednesday morning and enters the kitchen before anybody else gets there, and he decides he’ll cook breakfast. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, hash browns, grits, all of it. He stirs up some pancake batter, whips up some eggs, sizzles the bacon and soon starts questioning the decision that led him to thinking it would be a good idea to try and do all of this by himself—there are six, eight, ten of them now, and how many could probably clear out the fridge all by themselves?

But then Clint comes in and, without saying a word, starts flipping the bacon in the pan. Tony hides a smile because it’s all kind of ridiculous, the lives they lead, but he absolutely loves it.

When Thor comes in, Tony takes great pleasure in teaching him how to know when the pancake is ready to be flipped. When Nat comes in, he’s ready for her with a glass of orange juice because he knows she likes it but doesn’t usually let herself indulge. She glares disapprovingly but takes the glass nonetheless, and Tony takes it as a win.

And then Wanda slips into the kitchen silently, sitting down at the bar, watching but not really joining in on the interactions. And Tony’s no chef, but he can do simple—he can do sweet. He can stack three pancakes on top of a plate, one on top of the other on top of the other, add a generous helping of whipped cream, and meticulously stick three slices of strawberries around the whipped cream before dusting it with powdered sugar.

“Bon appétit,” he says, lavishing the plate upon Wanda.

She stares up at him with big eyes and then mutters a soft, “Thank you.”

He nods and smiles and thinks that he’s glad he did this.

And then Steve comes in—finally—wearing a tight Under Armour shirt and sweatpants—just came back from a run, then—and there’s a minute hint of perspiration on his forehead and an easy smile on his lips, and Tony can’t help but to stare.

He quickly turns away before Steve notices the way he’s caught Tony’s attention, loading up a new plate with a bit of everything. When everyone is settled in a chair somewhere around the kitchen, he goes over and places the plate in front of Steve.

“Here you are, darling.” He says this quietly, with as steady a voice as he can manage.

And Steve does something funny in response. He flinches, body going rigid. Tony has to physically force a frown from his face before it can properly settle, but the damage is done.

Steve’s smile has turned awkward and while he’s looking in Tony’s general vicinity, he doesn’t quite meet his eyes. He says, “Thank you, Tony.”

Tony doesn’t know what he finds surprising about this reaction, precisely, but surprising it is. Because otherwise he’d have to call it something else—like _disappointing_ , and that’s not it _at all_.

“No problem.” And Tony walks away, gets some breakfast for himself even though he suddenly doesn’t have much of an appetite, and goes to sit next to Wanda. She gives him a look Tony can only describe as _curious,_ but she doesn’t say anything. And he’s more grateful to her for that than she will probably ever know.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic, and have a moment, I would really appreciate knowing your thoughts in the comments! Thank you very much :)
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://padraigendragon.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
